


Secrets and Wonders

by valderys



Category: Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-28
Updated: 2010-05-28
Packaged: 2017-10-09 18:29:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/90273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valderys/pseuds/valderys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Merry is grumpy, Pippin is Tookish, but it works out all right in the end :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secrets and Wonders

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pipspebble](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=pipspebble).



> Written in 2005 as a birthday present for Pipspebble.

The Fellowship was waiting again. They did a lot of that, Merry thought. Considering how much of a hurry they were supposed to be in – the ring being sought, the last bastions of civilization in the West under threat and tottering, all of them so aware of the importance of their mission. Considering all that, they seemed to be told to hurry up and wait an awful lot. And this wasn't the best place to do it either – or at least wasn't the most pleasant. He looked around at the dark and gloomy passages and wondered if it was even possible to be scared stiff and bored to tears at the same time. He supposed it was, because that was definitely how he felt. He looked fondly at Pippin, sat at his side, and watched him fidget with yet another apple that Aragorn had found for him, from his seemingly inexhaustible supply. Aragorn indulged Pippin, while not seeming to indulge him at all. But that was true of a lot of people, Merry considered, including himself. Merry thought back to Pippin's little plaintive cry of "I'm hungry" the last time Gandalf had needed to think about their route. Nothing had happened then, but later, after more tramping through endless stone corridors, Aragorn had mysteriously turned up at Pip's side and tossed him the apple without a word. If Merry didn't love Pip, that ability of his to wind everyone round his little finger would be enough to make him green with envy.

They were meant to be on watch. Merry considered that really he was keeping watch and Pippin was keeping him company, but that was all right. That was useful. He needed to keep alert, and Pippin had always managed to do that at least. After all, when you had such a completely Tookish hobbit as Pippin as your best friend it paid to stay alert.

Then Merry felt immediately guilty. They were both there to help Frodo, who'd been his best friend as long as he could remember, and it made him uncomfortable to realise that somewhere along the line he'd begun to think of Pip as his best friend and Frodo as the Ringbearer. Someone to be protected and cherished, and supported, but not really the Frodo that Merry remembered. Not someone who would have a laugh with you, or go mushroom stealing, or make jokes about wizards and their over-large hats. It bothered him, as though somehow, without noticing, he'd lost a piece of the Shire, along with his best friend. It bothered him, but he knew it was just one more thing to blame on the Ring, and he tried not to dwell on what it might mean. It seemed there were a great many burdens to shoulder on this journey of theirs, and the Ring was only the mightiest of them.

Pippin shifted and sighed, and Merry glanced to him and away. He should be watching the passages, not Pippin. There might be all sorts of dangers in these lightless depths, but there certainly wasn't the kind of cheer and good fellowship that Gimli had promised. He wondered a little at that. Surely dwarves were not so long lived that to fail to hear from your cousins for forty years might be considered an ill omen? But then, Merry reasoned, that might well be true, but it also didn't stop Gimli hoping for the best, until perhaps the hope had felt more like a certainty? He knew that was how he was starting to feel about the whole quest, although perhaps it was this journey through the long dark that was making his hope feel thinner than usual? He stared into the left-hand passage, as it curved away and down into who-knew-where, and shivered.

Pippin shifted again, and then got up. Merry debated telling him to sit down, and then decided he'd done enough running around after Pip today, and he had to learn restraint sometime. Anyway, Merry was on watch. Someone had to be conscientious. He smiled a little to himself. He _was_ feeling grumpy today, wasn't he?

There was a clink, like the sound of metal on stone, and Merry turned slightly so he could see remainder of their Fellowship where they had set up temporary camp. The white light from Gandalf's staff was so very glaring, it washed out colours, and faces. All he could see were sharp black and white shadows - the edge of Gimli's axe glinting, and Aragorn in profile, his nose jutting out straight and true. Without even realising it, Merry reached up and rubbed his own more homely appendage, before noticing what he was doing, and smiling a little. Well, they couldn't all be Kings of Men, now could they? Or would want to be, a mildly indignant voice in his mind whispered. Merry thought it sounded rather like his mother, and unconsciously straitened his back.

The clinking sound echoed again, and this time Merry saw that Boromir had his sword out and was preparing to sharpen it. Comfortable again, now he knew what was causing his distraction, Merry shifted back to watching the dark passages. He understood that they didn't want to box themselves in like rats in a trap, but waiting in a junction like this made it that much harder to be vigilant. Well, that was his opinion anyway, not that it had been asked. But then he remembered – he was feeling grumpy today, wasn't he? Mustn't forget that.

He opened his mouth to tell Pippin to sit down after all, as a mild indulgence to his mood, when he realised suddenly that Pippin wasn't there. Wildly, Merry looked about, his heart hammering, and thought, surely he would have noticed if some goblin had snatched up his Pippin in those few seconds he wasn't looking? If he was even now being carried off as a snack for some great hairy troll, surely Merry would have heard Pip shout, or seen some sign of his struggle? All was utterly quiet. A distant plink of water struck like a musical note, but that was all, even Boromir appeared to have fallen silent, and Merry held his breath, as he felt the hushed weight of stone pressing him down into the earth.

Then he shook his head. This place played tricks on the mind. Bad enough he was imagining all the nasty creatures that could be out there, without inventing dire events that couldn't possibly have happened, as well. Pippin had wandered off. It was as simple as that. He must have done. And Merry found his racing heart calming, as he rationalised his way from panic, and instead found himself going from grumpy to very nearly angry. How dare Pippin scare him in this way!

Well, Merry would just have to find him, that was all, find him and bring him back before any of the dreadful events he had begun to envisage could take place. And then, after Merry had caused some dreadful events of his own, or at the very least given Pip a piece of his mind, perhaps that idiot Took might finally learn some responsibility.

Swiftly now, Merry got up from his perch on a broken column, and made his way to Aragorn. The man turned to look at him before he got there, and Merry smiled a little to see it. Once a ranger, always a ranger, after all.

"Could you take over my watch for a moment, Aragorn, please?" he asked. He thought for a second, not wanting to admit the real reason for his absence. "Umm. Call of nature."

Aragorn raised an eyebrow, and Merry felt more irritated than he probably should at such evidence of Aragorn's uncanny ability to read his mind. Then Aragorn smiled and rose to take a stance more in keeping with a watchful guard, although Merry was prepared to bet that at some level he was always constantly aware of their surroundings, it came as naturally to him as breathing. It occurred to him to ask if Aragorn knew where Pippin had wondered off to, but a small stubborn part of him refused to let Aragorn have the satisfaction. If anyone was going to tell Pippin off, it was going to be him. It just was, and that was that.

He walked to the edges of the bright pool of light, and peered into looming shadows. If he was a curious, bored hobbit-lad, where might he have decided to go? The ceiling vaulted above him, its sweeping arches still showing the solemn grandeur and beautiful workmanship that Merry always associated with Dwarves. Moria affected him deeply when he allowed himself to think about it, such a sad place, a place that made him think about the endings of things, and the dying of such small lights as civilised lands still kindled. It wasn't something on which he wished to dwell, but he found he couldn't help himself. Where was Pippin? He needed him. He needed him to banish the dark. Needed him to just be Pippin, and make him feel exasperated again and to banish once more this terrible feeling that everything was ending, that there was no more hope in the world. He just needed…

Merry took a breath and stepped out into the dark. This was no time for morbid fancies. This was the great Dwarven realm of Dwarrowdelf, not a tomb, whatever Boromir had called it. They would cross it, and then they would face the next challenge, and then the next, and eventually Frodo would throw the Ring in Mount Doom, and then they could all go home. As great pep-talks went, it perhaps lacked a little something but Merry decided it was as good as he was going to get. It didn't matter anyway, they would keep going as long as there was breath in their bodies, or life in their limbs. Hope didn't really enter into it.

But thinking about Moria and its mysteries gave him another idea. What had Gandalf said to him? "When in doubt, Meriadoc, always follow your nose." Well, those were words to live by, especially for a hobbit. He found that remembering Gandalf and his casually offered advice, warmed his heart a little. One should always heed the words of wizards, after all.

Merry stopped moving, listened carefully to the echoing dark, and then took a great long sniff, feeling very silly as he did so. There was a scent of cold stone, that tickled his nose, and a hint of damp, like the smell of mud from the bottom of the Brandywine, but somehow not as comforting as that. There was a waft of something that might be decay from the passage on his left that went down and down, and Merry rejected that since he thought that even Pippin would be put off by the gloomy feel, but that still left three others. He took another sniff, as he moved on soft feet towards the right-most entrance, and this time he thought he could catch just a hint of fresh apple smell, and maybe the scent of warm wool. Pippin. It made his heart leap, and his throat close, in a completely ridiculous way, and that made him more irritable somehow. Just wait 'til he got his hands on that blasted Took!

The stone here was smooth, nothing broken or damaged. No grisly remains left to remind him of battles lost, or dangers yet unencountered. Slowly, Merry made his way down, following that elusive Pippin-scent, and as he went he trailed a hand along the wall. He fingers whispered along blocks that fitted together so smoothly he could barely feel the join. The reflected light grew dimmer and dimmer, the glare of Gandalf's staff barely as bright as the glow of curiously white embers this far from their camp.

Would Pippin have really wandered so far? Merry was beginning to doubt his own senses, wizard's advice or not, when he caught sight of another sort of glow, this one friendlier, a warming yellow that came from round the corner in front of him. His heart began to knock against his ribs – it was only his assumption that Pippin had come this way, what if this was the campfire of orcs, or goblins, or other nasties?

Using all the caution that a hobbit is capable of – which is, after all, a considerable amount – Merry stole around the bend, his hand on his sword. The passage continued onwards, but the glow came from a door that stood wide open, set into the wall. The light shifted in the very faint movement of the air, flickering crazily, as Merry peered into the room. He was already poised to leap and sell himself as dearly as he could, if it turned out that Pippin had been captured after all, but instead he saw such an unexpected sight that involuntarily he let out a little gasp. At the noise, instead of showing a proper amount of fear, Pippin suddenly looked up and smiled widely.

Merry completely forgot he was going to give Pippin a piece of his mind. He forgot that he was going to make Pip feel his responsibilities for once, was going to take him to task for shirking guard duty, for scaring him so badly. He forgot it all. Instead, an equally wide and delighted grin stole across Merry's face. Following his nose indeed – trust Pippin to take any advice and turn it on its head!

In the room, lit by the stub of a candle, with Pip's flint and tinder lying on a shelf beside it, Pippin sat dangling his legs from a stone bench that was only a little too big for him. There were tables in here, and more shelves, and huge stone bins, taller than either of them. There were hooks on the walls, and cupboards, and marble-surfaced work benches, and all of it crafted with loving Dwarvish care. Merry let out a breath he hadn't even realised he'd been holding, and took his hand off his sword hilt.

"Isn't it wonderful, Merry?" Pippin said gleefully, and then crunched into his apple. The sharp-sweet odour drifted across the room and Merry inhaled deeply, barely needing to close his eyes to imagine what it must have been like in here once upon a time. He walked across and hauled himself up onto the bench next to Pip.

"Yes, it's wonderful. A real find, Pip."

He leaned into Pippin a little, and buried his nose in the sweet scent of his hair, as Pippin leant back and sighed a little. An unusually wistful little smile tugged at his mouth as he turned to look up at Merry, and said, "Red meat off the bone, remember what Gimli said, Merry?"

"And roaring fires, and malt beer. Yes, I remember. And maybe there will be again one day, Pip. You never know."

Pippin sighed again, and snuggled into Merry's side a little more, before passing him half the apple.

"I hope so. It's so lovely in here, it seems such a shame…"

And this time Merry let his eyes close on the sight of vaulted stone and perfectly shaped wood, and crunched into the apple, as he held Pip tight against him, and just let himself feel. Such secret treasures, such wonder – it reminded him to hope again. It was silly, really, to let himself forget in the first place. His anger was gone, replaced with determination, and a gratitude to beautiful Dwarrowdelf for the lesson.

They sat quietly, Pippin and he, passing the apple back and forth until it was all gone, and then gently Merry tugged them both off the bench. He knew it was past time to be getting back. They both took one last lingering look at the greatest and most majestic set of kitchens it had ever been their privilege to witness, and then Pippin picked up the candle-end. They caught each other's gaze across the fragile flame, their eyes both mirroring the same slight sadness, and then, with a small huff, Pippin blew the candle out.


End file.
